Fire Angel
by Kronus
Summary: So delectably AU. Auror Angelina is sent to do a seemingly unimportant mission with a completely unexpected partner. Let this story be more original than its summary.
1. Chapter 1

Well, I had this in my computer for a while, and I decided to at least finish a chapter. I'm not going to tell you if this is worth the effort to read this. Make sure you have nothing better to do, 'cause I don't want to have any death threats on my head for wasting people's time. But please, enjoy if you can.

Disclaimer: Um, yeah, not mine. I'm not even British! Only in my fantasies.

**Fire Angel**

**Kronos**

A two year old Angelina Johnson, early awakened from afternoon nap, toddled into the kitchen unbeknownst by the rest of her family. Normally getting up around lunch time, she comes in to find her father, and this was her favorite part of the day because he always gives her an early treat before the family comes in, but only if she could answer the biggest most important question ever. It was always the same one, and he would ask in a serious voice:

"Now, who is the best, brightest, and most beautiful daughter any loving father could hope for?"

And her baby round face would burst into a smile and would always answer:

"I am!"

And he would pick her up, kiss her in the forehead or cheek, and give her a cookie from the top of the refrigerator, which was where all the only good food was kept, though her mom would never believe her.

But to today she found herself in an empty kitchen. Being the smart girl she was, she saw the set up table and the pot on the stove and knew that her father was nearby, and she calmly waited for him to come back into the room.

Soon a noise started to distract her. It was a high, bubbly sound, kind of like the sound her drinks make when she puffed up her cheeks and blew air into the straw. No, wait . . .there was a hissing noise too, like . . .like the sound of ready tea. She knew that when tea and other hot things made hissing noises it was time to take it off the stove, and since her dad wasn't there to do it himself, she'd do it for him.

Giggling with the joy of helping, she trotted to the oven to get it, and was quickly dismayed; she couldn't reach it! She thought she could reach it if she stood really high on her tippy toes, but the handle still eluded her. She looked toward the kitchen table, but she knew she couldn't move a chair after an aborted attempt to get to the 'real food' at the top of the refrigerator. But she really wanted to help. She had to do something!

There was a small ring that hung off the pot handle, and she tried to get her small fingers in that to grab it and slide it off. She hopped once. Missed. Twice. Three times. A fourth. Two pudgy child fingers made it into the silver loop, and the pot of boiling water flipped over with all her weight.

Her short, shrill scream mingled with that of her father's as he witnessed his daughter being doused with boiling water, the black pot clattering against her shoulder with a hollow clang.

Her horrified father snatched Angelina and placed her in the kitchen sink. Sobbing out self curses he turned on the cold tap and tried to soak her in the cold water, which made her yowl all the harder. He made the feat of frantically looking her over, trying to sooth the howling toddler, and asking if she was okay a million times in about two seconds.

As he looked over his child's face and arms, Mr. Johnson was surprised to see not even slightest peeling- or any irritation- on Angelina. He did see one burned victim that had a pot of boiling water thrown in his face in a medical show, and although much darker, the girl's body looked nothing like the horribly red and peeling face of the other victim. Surprisingly, the only thing she was complaining about was the cold water, and that fact that her shoulder hurt. The part of her shoulder that the pot had slammed against has turned an angry purplish color. He finally pulled her out when it was becoming obvious that Angelina thought he put her here for some kind of punishment. Pitiful dark eyes stared from a curtain of sopping black hair.

"I-I'm sahwee for spilling the water. I won't do it again I swear. It's cold."

Stunned, he cut off the water and set the dripping girl down on her feet. Crouching down with to get one last look over, he asked her again if she was okay, if her skins hurts at all. She looked at him confused, and slowly said. "My skin hurts . . .here," and pointed to her injured shoulder.

Taking his wide eyed look for anger, tears again started to well up in her eyes, but her lucky father wasn't having any of that. He gave her a dozen of kisses, and after she was dried and changed she got _three_ cookies! Amazed, she asked if she could even tell her mom she had three cookies before her meal. Her father simply replied:

"Darling, there will be a lot of things we won't be telling your mother today."

The family had a simple lunch of cold cut sandwiches that day.

* * *

A twenty year old Angelina Johnson walked into Headmaster Dumbledore's office, and finding if empty decided to wait for his return. She was unsurprised since McGonagall, her old charms teacher, told her that Dumbledore was off getting her partner for her next assignment. 

Despite her friends or even her own first guess, Angelina entered Auror training after graduating Hogwarts. Actually her future plans never really involved Quidditch; she originally aspired to become a Medi-witch to help out with the growing amount of injuries that is going hand-in-hand with the intensity of the war. She even went as far as to seek an internship with Promfrey before a couple of well placed hints and suggestions by the Headmaster himself ended up in the last minute tweaking of her grades so she could get into the training. The surprised Weasley boys then joked that she just 'got positioned' by Dumbledore, but he was always so wrapped up in Harry Potter that she seriously doubted that she was manipulated into anything in particular. He just brought up some good valid points. That she would never have thought up by herself. Which kind of totally changed her life plans. . . but not drastically! She knew she wanted to help out in the war effort when she got out, and the reason that she didn't originally consider joining the Aurors was because her marks were just under the requirements. Actually she never quite hit the mark, but she got in anyway. She always thought that slack came from the increasing serious situation. . . Had she heardof anyone else being slipped into the training?

Well, there was no point of thinking about that now. She got into it and wasn't by far the worse case they've had, so things worked out in the end.

Or maybe not so well, she thought a bit sourly. The only special part about this assignment was that she got to be in Dumbledore's office (and being one of the students to have frequently existed within ten meters of the twins she made that honor a couple of times by herself during school), and its greatest mystery was why the Headmaster would have anything to do with this really.

If it wasn't for the fact that Dumbledore was said to have asked for her personally (she was surprise he still knew she existed after she left), she should probably be insulted. For all intents purposes she was being sent somewhere. Really anonymous. To look for "something" that _may _be happening that could _possibly _be related to Voldemort activity. Maybe.

Okay, she knew that most important schemes could and should be found in the lesser of likely places, but being that only two people were being sent out, and any suspicion of the area purely coming from the faintest, and not really consistent rumors, she could guess that this was not one of such schemes. That and those snide comments from that wench Bersley. . .

Deciding that making herself angry would not do her any good, not-quite-sullen dark eyes scanned their way across the office. The office managed to look nearly identical to the last time she saw it, only gaining an odd looking paperweight and missing the phoenix. Huh. In mild surprise she turned to look at the perch, wondering why it took her so long to notice his absence. She wandered over to peer inside of it. Maybe he went through one of those burning things? She never got to see one of those and she was always curious— ahh, Fawkes!

The phoenix seemed to have appeared out of nowhere, his sharp talons nearly pricking her skin and her right eye nearly blinded by the light before she could think to turn away. The fire around him died as he pressed himself against her cheek and proceeded to greet her, and she lifted a brown hand to stroke it in return. A low laugh bubbled from within her. He was always warm.

"Heh heh, hello to you too Fawkes! How are you?" She was amused by the bird's trilling response.

"Ah, I see we are all having a good reunion," Dumbledore jovially exclaimed as he reentered his office. Angelina started and turned.

"Headmaster . . ."

"Headmaster? I believe we are beyond this my dear. Call me Albus."

"Ah- Albus . . ." He smiled at her genially as he started back toward his desk. He stopped by to pet the still singing phoenix, who soon alighted her shoulder and started flapping around the room. After waiting a moment to see if Albus was going to react to his pet's behavior, she started to ask about why she was specifically ask to go do . . .whatever it was, before she heard an agitated voice approaching behind her.

"Albus, if you don't get that bird quiet . . ."

She again turned to see her assumed partner, smiling. Another person could have frozen by this point, but her continued smile didn't look terribly unnatural. Angelina rarely admits any talents, but one thing that she was consistently told was that she had never visibly produce a false smile. An odd comment that, but for its own randomness and its habit for coming up on multiple unrelated occasions she just assumed it to be true. Hiding your emotions was always a double-edged sword, but it was always handy for politeness sake. And really, this was all that she had going for her, because if she even thought of opening her mouth. . .

"Ah, Severus. Glad of you to join us."

The professor didn't falter in his step, but he did give Headmaster a dirty look. "I was right behind you Albus." As he stepped up to the desk next to the suspiciously neutral Angelina he had no intention of acknowledging the girl, but her façade of indifference was intriguing. He wondered how long she could keepit up. He nodded. "Ms. Johnson."

Angelina turned to face him, wondering if she could get away without saying anything, and decided that she couldn't. He was a bit brusque but not rude enough to deserve a similar response. Ah well, what was in a name?

"Professor Snape." Hah, her voice was just a bit above normal but other than that it was perfect. Not glowing with delight but polite enough. And she was not panicking. Like to panic. But not panicking.

"Oh, I'm sure Severus will never accept that! Call him Severus."

As soon as Snape opened his mouth to more than likely give his opinion on that particular comment, Fawkes swooped down to him and, for all that Snape was concerned, attacked him. After a brief flurry of feathers, squawking, and curses, the scene ended in the phoenix sitting calmly on the man's shoulder, and the professor's face a good three steps down from glaring death. If you knew Snape you'd know that this had obviously happened before.

"Albus!"

"Aw, Severus, you knew he always liked you." Fawkes cooed in agreement.

Angelina smiles may all seem genuine, but that doesn't mean that they all can't be sincere.

* * *

A/N: I'll stop here, since I don't know how much effort I'll put into this. Compliments, comments, criticisms, flames, flagrant disregards for my self-esteem, all are welcome here. If this story catches anybody's eye I must know who tripped in here. I'll just put down a brief list of things that crossed my mind as I was writing this, to maybe route some questions that may pop up. 

I've forgotten the motor skills of a two year old, but I'll doubt it is how I've written it. I originally toddlerized all of it, but it looked so corny I couldn't keep it that way. sigh Just try to work with me here; that's the gist of what she said. I think all the words work, doesn't it? If not, she's a really smart kid.

I apologize for any and all the butchering in my portrayal of the mythical phoenix.

And for any inconsistencies with Aurors and their training processes. That's why I've tended to glaze over those details for now.

As well as any grammar/spelling stuff. I won't formally ask for a beta unless I decide to continue this thing.

Any other oddities could well be intentional.


	2. Chapter 2

A/N: Okay, I'm giving it another go. This is Snape oriented, but we will get back to Angelina (and a hopefully a moving plot) in the next chapter. (chapter mildly edited; don't read a second time, just less awkward)

**Fire Angel**

**Pt. 2**

**Kronos**

A five year old Severus Snape walked into his mother's quarters, his face already relatively neutral compared to his emotions, though the averagely perceptive person could still have spotted his anxiety, if they cared to look for it. He started to wait in the sitting room, until he heard Mother's voice calling form her bedroom door. He walked over and saw his mother sitting on the edge of her bed, a forgotten brush loosely clutched in her right hand.

"Mother . . ."

"Did your father see you?"

His immature façade of calmness crumbled, his face crumpling into the fear and sadness of a five year old boy. This was really bad if his actions could've possibly shamed his father. Tears welled up stubbornly in his startled eyes, though he tried to stop them. This hurt more than the other times that he upset or disappointed his family; he thought that his actions would have made them proud, and was surprised of his nanny's reaction when she spotted him in the hallway.

"Mother--! I'm sorry! I didn't know . .!"

His mother, at first too caught up in her own stress to realize her son tenuous state, was horrified at how she had affected her son. The brush thunked softly on the thick carpeting as she knelt down on the floor and gathered up Severus in her arms.

"Oh I am so sorry to scare you so, my dear. It's okay; nobody's mad at you." She petted his head for a few moments, her pale fingers sifting through his black, dank locks. Nervousness tugged at her middle again. "But son, _did_ you father see you?"

He shook his head, still pressed against his mother's shoulder, though he was looking for him, as well as anybody else. He wanted to show him his greatest achievement, the first successful thing he had created with this beginning potions set, actually. His father had always complained, more to his mother than to Severus personally, about the condition of the boy's hair, and one of the first things he worked on when he got his first potions set was creating a shampoo. The best shampoo, he thought in his youthful exuberance.

The concoction was pretty simple, but as kids his age was just beginning to read, for young Severus to independently search out the procedure, read it, and then follow it perfectly with little difficulty was saying something about his budding intellectual and potion prowess. His mother noted this, if not a bit wryly.

Afterwards the boy went into the bathroom to test the product on himself (I'd like to think he was too innocent and naïve to consider trying it on somebody else first, but no, there were no other kids or animals in the house, and it was just shampoo, after all) and to his mind it seemed a success. The slick feeling of his hair was completely gone, and it certainly looked a whole lot better. He was surprised that the water was actually running out his hair as a murky color. He patted it dry, and set out to find someone, preferably his mother or father.

So how shocked he was, innocently bee-lining to the other side of the house, when his nanny saw him and flipped. In a panicked flurry she grabbed him up, and before he knew it, was having his hair washed a second time. He tried to tell her that he'd already done it himself, but she didn't seem to take notice of him speaking. Then he was sent here. Overall, he was more confused than anything.

"Mama," he pulled back from her shoulder, his voice small. "Did I do something, wrong?"

A much more relieved Mrs. Snape ruffled Severus' hair. Truthfully, if her husband did see him, he would have already been here, so she was no longer too worried. "No Severus. The potion you made was fine; it's just that it turned your hair into the most awkward shade. I'm sure Ms. Small did not want such a mishap to reflect badly on her part." Just how long did she leave him to his own devices? "And so she fixed this as soon as possible."

Severus blinked. When he looked in the mirror afterwards it was still wet, and was still dark enough to not cause any alarm. It helped that the back room that he used was pretty dim. "Oh. I'm sorry."

A warm smile spread across his mother's face.

"That's okay dear. You did great for your first try!"

* * *

A thirty-eight year old Severus Snape was following Headmaster Dumbledore to his office, brooding. The old man swooped down and snatched him out of his fifth year potions for this. Probably thinking that he'd run off somewhere otherwise. And of course he let out class early instead of using one of his backup quizzes. Though the act was somewhat aggravating, that wasn't the reason for his foul humor. 

"Albus, if there is any way I can possibly dissuade you . . .?"

"Now, Severus, this is for you own good," as he had said before.

"I don't see how ferreting me away on some far corner of this planet is going to do either of us any good," as _he'd_ said before.

Dumbledore look back at the potions professor. His black hair was obscuring most of his face, but not enough to hide his scowl. He sighed. "Severus, I think it would do you a lot of good for you to see the end of the war. And it would do me good to know that you are relatively safe. As safe as these times call for anyway."

A part of Severus was touched that someone would deign to care so much about him. A part. And a relatively small one at that, compared to his frustrated anger. Frustrated because 1) he could fight until he was blue in the face and he'd still end up going and 2) really, this was his own fault. He wasn't quite sure what he actually did, and it probably wasn't any one action in particular, but the Dark Lord had finally caught on to him. It was through is spying skills that he found this out before everything shut down on him but truthfully, he had maybe a week left. If the Snake Lord was feeling gracious.

"I assure you Albus that dying the death of a thousand Crucios isn't my ideal either, but I'll be serving no purpose if I go. My tenuous state has not yet gone through all the ranks, and I can still provide you with some information."

"Until you were tortured and killed." The flat tone was really unaccustomed to Albus' voice.

"As opposed to being found before being tortured and killed, yes." But sarcasm was by no means a stranger to Severus'. "You act as if running away will actually keep me safe in the long run. You know the Dark Lord can eventually track me down." Not to mention killing his arm in the process. "Why should I delay the inevitable?"

Staying in character aside, Dumbledore was so tempted to say "Because I'm telling you to" his whiskers twitched. He settled for a twinkle that he knew basically communicated the same thing. "Severus, have you not once told me that I am the one of the few people that you can trust?"

Severus grimaced. "Yes, Albus," Dumbledore smiled.

"Would it kill you to act on that theory for once?"

Snape let out a hiss of air, briefing moving his heavy dark locks. He conceded by not pressing it further. "Can you at least tell me where I'm going?"

"No."

"No! Albus, this is preposterous! You can't possibly-"

"Aren't you curious about who will be accompanying you?"

Snape sighed. No, actually, he wasn't curious at all about who would be going with him. Hm, well, with all this hoohah about not wanted to see him dead, he did wonder who Albus thought to be good enough for a one-man army. But you know what, right now, he'd rather not admit it. He'd just settle for glaring—wait. Snape sharply placed a hand on Dumbledore's shoulder, stopping them in front of the gargoyle.

"Albus Dumbledore, if you tell me that I will have to accompany this thing with Potter, I will leave you right now and personally appear before Voldermort with a red ribbon around my neck."

Albus shook his head. "Severus, don't you think it is about time that you two decided to get over your differences . . ." Now it was Dumbledore's hand to grasp Severus' shoulder to stop his retreating form, and sighed. "No, Severus, it is not Harry." Though later, if he could, he was going to shove those two in a locked room one day. Preferably inflammable. "The best way to divert the enemy's eyes away from finding a target is not to put a bigger target right next to it."

Before Severus could show any signs of relief, he added, "But she is one of your former students."

A 'she' huh? Snape grabbed the bridge of his nose, trying to sway a headache. He was not going to just ask who it was, because he knew he'd make him guess. Well, at least it crossed out all the Weasley twits. Er, except the girl, who was still in school, so he should be safe from her as well. He didn't know who he thinks should be important enough for him to remember. He exhaled harshly out of his nose.

"Is it the Granger woman?"

"Chiclets."

"What the—" Severus gritted his teeth as the gargoyle jumped out the way, revealing the stairway. He didn't know whether it was more annoying to have Dumbledore to keep doing that or for him to keep falling for it. The headmaster sensed that Snape's toleration for his kidding has ended. Ah, well, what harmin a bit more fun?

"Well, Severus, I don't know if you would recall her actually. She just got out of Auror training, and looks very promising indeed. Do you remember a Miss Angelina Johnson?"

Dumbledore pretended to ignore Severus' as he ceased walking and continued his way to his office. Actually, Severus himself had to yet realize he'd stop moving.

"Are you serious?" he muttered to no one in particular. He wasn't on the best of terms with that girl. Well, okay, that could stand well with many of Hogwarts students, but she was on the list of the top five people that he would rather not have to share too much breathing space with. Oh, wait, he forgot to calculate the Weasleys. . . well then she was definitely in the top twenty. The only thing that redirected his ire back then was the resurrection of James Potter with bad contacts and his sidekicks. That he was sure were buried alive to wait for his services in his tomb.

The potions professor was taken out of his thoughts by the squawkings of the phoenix. He cursed under his breath, though he really should be thanking Fawkes for averting a possibly embarrassing situation involving the end of the moving staircase and the floor.

'Sorry waste of part of a three course meal. . .' he thought sourly as he made his way to the Headmaster's office.

* * *

A/N: Heh, well, this is moving a bit slower than I expected. But I don't plan to quit on this thing until I give it a discernable plot. They may be low goals but I have goals, blast it, and I'm going to stick by them!

I got reviews! (And I'm being spied on. Neat.) I didn't really know what to expect from this story, so thank you for the encouragement **angelface04**, **FredsAngel**, and **evilevergreen, **I really appreciate it. I would also appreciate any feedback so, if you have any opinion or question or critique or intense loathing . . .anything really, hit me back. Hm, and is there anyone who would do beta, just curious.

A/N2: Wow, um, yeah, about . . .yeah. How about I save my excuses for the third chapter?


	3. Chapter 3

AN: Wow, I actually done it. Haha, you guys don't know. While writing this I ran into a Writing Mountain. If I had a chapter for every time I've rewritten this chapter I'd be done with this fanfiction. I'm still twitching over some parts but I hope you enjoy it. And I hope I've made it over the hump. Here we go.

**Fire Angel **

**Part 3 **

**Kronos **

An eleven year old Angelina Johnson was hurrying down the hallway, cursing her luck. Angelina was now experiencing her first day of classes at Hogwarts . . .and she was running late!

This was really not cool since she originally left breakfast twenty minutes early for the blasted thing. She was actually hanging around the dungeons area when small blonde first year came to her, saying she was lost. Apparently she assumed she was from another year. She was going to tell her that she probably had as much a clue to the Hufflepuff common rooms as she herself did, but she seemed so close to crying that she found herself accompanying her.

She remembered more of the tour than she realized, so they made it to her common rooms with no problem. She waited for the girl to get her things ("if it wasn't too much of a bother") with no problem. They made it back to the Great- Oh, no, class is starting soon, can you show me to my classroom?- Charms class, again with no problem.

After she dropped the girl off she turned back and strode down the hallway. . . to meet a stone wall. This had the potential to be a problem. Her watch told her she had three minutes before class started. This definitely _was_ a problem.

She didn't hit a dead end; the hallway just seemed to have . .angled itself, but it did end up rerouting her completely. As soon as she re-entered familiar territory, the bells caught up to her. By the time it started sounding the hour she just came back to the dungeon area.

Dong . . .Dong . . .Dong . . .

New white sneakers could have faired better with the stone floor, with Angelina scrambling down the hall and nearly stumbling down the second flight of stairs. She finally just leapt off the fifth step before she had an accident.

Dong . . .Dong . . .Dong. . .

Cursing the delay the landing gave her, long skinny brown legs flashed from under her robes as she lifted them to gather speed. Clear and white beads slapped smartly against her nose and cheeks as she dashed around corners, hopefully towards her potions class. Left, right, then left? Which left? God, was it the _same_ left?

Dong . . .

The last hallway, a doorway revealing a glimpse of students and cauldrons, with a slowly closing door. She was almost there.

Dong . . . Angelina's hand pushed back the door before it closed shut, going back towards a (internally) surprised potions professor. The heavy door didn't hit the man, though by his expression it might as well. He already had a cold glare directed at her, but the angling made it impossible for her to notice him at first. Seeing the full class she immediately started apologizing, eyes scanning for the teacher.

She finally turned around and looked up at the professor. And kept looking up. The coldly irate professor was tall, as tall if not taller than her own father, with pallid skin, large hooked nose and contrasting lank black hair and dark eyes. She knew this wasn't going to end well.

"I'm sorry sir, for being late, but I had to-." She tried to speak in the humblest tone that she could manage, but the professor spoke as if she hadn't.

"It seems we have the perfect example of the Gryffindor's dedication for all things scholarly. I'm curious to know what monsters scared you from the deep to force you into an enclosure of learning. Or were you trying to find yourself some robes that actually fit?" Angelina tugged self-consciously at one of her sleeves. They fit! If only barely. She knew it was a mistake to have the things picked out without her actually being there; her aunt always underestimated her height. "Either way that could have been taken up at another time. Congratulations, Little Miss, you are the first student to lose points for your House. Fifty points from Gryffindor."

Fifty! There were mutters of dismay and anger from the Gryffindor side. Angelina was trying to keep herself from being furious. A faint dull red flushed across her nose as she failed.

"No that's not fair! Sir!" The 'sir' she practically spat. "I wasn't even late! You saw me! I was _just _on time!"

He wasn't even affected. "And ten more for impertinence."

Before she could begin to respond she saw a smaller boy, unremarkable for dressed in Slytherin robes, waltzed in and took one of the vacant seats on his side. And she watched as nothing happened. She couldn't believe this.

Enraged, she turned back to the professor, who already had his back to her, posed to write on the board.

"I suggest you find your seat Miss Johnson if you don't wish to lose even more points."

Merlin knew what could've happened if a brighter red didn't pierce through Angelina's haze. She caught one of one of the twins wildly gesturing her back to the desks.

/Calm down, it's okay. Look, there's no way you can win in this. Please sit down before it gets any worse. We know it's not your fault; we heard he's a complete bastard/

Fairly complicated gesturing.

A simmering Angelina whipped towards her seat, robes billowing. Snape didn't react to the gust of heat that flared from behind.

* * *

"A problem has arisen," Dumbledore said, suddenly serious. "And we would like your help." 

After the phoenix was calmed into a less animated state, the professor and former student settled around the Headmaster's desk. Candy and tea were passed out while they had polite small talk. Well, she and Dumbledore; Snape just glowered.

Angelina put down her teacup. "May I ask why?" She had no clue why anyone would want her specifically for anything. She doubted she had the talent, and certainly not the experience, to warrant any sort of recommendations.

White eyebrows lifted in surprise and amusement. "Why not? You have shown to be just as promising an Auror as you were a student. You've excelled in all your lessons and on-field training, and had been the fastest to go through said training in years." Dumbledore took a sip of his tea. "Or so I've heard."

. . . Oh.

Angelina kept back her first two questions immediately, knowing the best they could do was to create more questions. Yes, all that he said was true, but she wasn't about to give herself a pat on the back for it. War was what got her through training in record time, she believed, not her outstanding personal attributes.

Before Angelina could think of an appropriate response Dumbledore set down his own cup.

"Are you aware of the role that Severus Snape had played in this war?"

She had another brief moment of surprise. How could he possibly assume that she would know that? Angelina blinked.

"Well, yes, actually." The whole story behind her hearing it from a reliable source would be tedious. During her time in Hogwarts she heard many rumors involving Snape, and never paid special attention to any one in particular, but during her seventh year she was told that Snape was a spy for the side of light. She had to believe it because it came from Ron Weasley himself, and anything positive about the man from Ron became undisputed fact. That it was also begrudgingly confirmed by Harry Potter helped.

Snape gave a quick sharp look in her direction, and Dumbledore displayed no discernable reaction. He continued

"Then you can understand how precarious it could be. There has been an incident, and because of such Hogwarts has ceased being a safe place for him."

So she was really kidding herself that after all this time somehow this whole thing didn't need to involve the potions master. Ugh. They've had . . .past issues. Well, her and the majority of the student populace, so maybe it won't be too bad. And he may not be the one to hold grudges. . . .

Hah Bloody Hah.

But still . . . "I don't see how I can be much of a help."

"Though we can spare very little from the main effort I believe it is important to protect as many lives as possible. Every life is important." Angelina didn't miss the stress on the word 'every', nor the pointed look in Snape's direction. Snape lips thinned, obviously trying to withhold something. "Severus is a powerful wizard, but it is always harder for one to go it alone. We would like if you could accompany Severus while we find a way to have him return safely."

Then reality hit her. Angelina looked back at the Headmaster as if he lost his mind. She thought maybe the worst she had to do was to stand by as he picked ingredients in a low level danger zone or had some meeting with a not really important Death Eater. Something that her small amount of training could handle and wouldn't have any huge repercussions if she faltered. Not a mission that would basically have her as the sole back up for our side's only spy.

"Sir this seems important. Too important to only have someone at my level involved"

Another unreadable glance from Snape in response, but again Dumbledore did nothing but smile.

"A band of Aurors would not be so useful if the point is to be discreet. And I believe you give yourself too little credit." Dumbledore casually removed his spectacles and started to clean them with his sleeve. "Although the choice remains yours. If you feel that a higher ranking Auror should take this job I will find someone else." Okay . . .

. . . . And that was it.

He stopped talking.

No. No, this isn't the way this works. He was _supposed_ to talk around theissue until choosing to do otherwise would seem virtually impossible. Not give a seemingly open ended decision on the others' part.

Hm. Well, then, Angelina made up her mind pretty quickly. As soon as she opened her mouth though the phoenix chose that moment to land on the desk, stirringsome parchments and knocking over the paperweight. Her Quidditch-ready hand caught the awkward object without thinking, just as a pale long fingered hand stopped the fall from underneath.

"Though that wouldn't be the way to do it."

That was the last thing she heard before the world melted around her.

* * *

Alright, some of these things I did on purpose, some had to have been genuine mistakes, and others I've done knowing I could be wring about it. On the really minor things I'm taking AU liberty, but feel free to tell me if something doesn't sound right; if it was an accident I'll try to fix it. And as always tell me what you think. 

And of course I loved the people who reviewed, though you wouldn't know by my actions. Thank you **FredsAngel**, **Taiyl**, **Ashliegh**, **angelface04**, **Evilevergreen**, **HonorineHermelin**, and **Fredsonetrueluv** ever so immensely. And thank the last three again for bugging me after an obscene amount of time has passed. Though I never forgot this fiction you gave me the extra push to go and finish this chapter.

And for apology for the delay and the possible suck of this chapter, I'll say of one of my oddities: the second chapter?My Severus always had a talent with potions. And so he did wash his hair out. Successfully.


	4. Chapter 4

A/N: I'll just admit I'm a bad person. Well, I can give a bunch of excuses (and I have aplenty), but I'm not even going to go there. Just hate me. And for all you that may be just coming into this, I'm unreliable as all hell. But on a positive, I'm actually trying to outline this thing, so it won't be so easy to flounder on it.

**Fire Angel **

**Part 4**

A fifteen year old Severus Snape was walking back form his first day of classes. He was making his favored trip around some of the more obscure pathways back to his dorm, away from the excited crowds ready to see everybody back from summer. If he was lucky he could make it back to his room without anyone bothering him. With four trying school years interspersed with four more trying summers, he just wasn't in the mood.

Unfortunately for young Severus, four scheming Gryffindor boys didn't plan to make it easy for him. Well, more like 2.75: two thought it was a fantastic idea, another came to give them The Look and tell them how foolish they were being, so much so as to successfully browbeat the forth into agreeing with him. Which is actually mildly out of character for the third, but he was trying to prove a point.

Which brought Remus back to himself, so he redoubled The Look.

"On the first day of classes no less? Do you children ever know when to quit? Of all the other things we could be doing right now. What about Becky?" He made a pointed look at Sirius. The boy jerked a little in his crouched position behind the railing.

"Ah, I haven't talked to her yet since we got back. I wanted to talk to her at the feast but her blasted friends took up all the space," he started to become restless, nearly knocking over the small cauldron he was handling. They can tell they were quickly losing him to BeckyRush. He started to stand up. "I wonder where she-"

"Sirius. Heel." James snapped. Sirius half-sulked as he settled back down. James turned towards Remus with eyes too brown and too innocent. "Now how are we doing our dear Snape any harm? If anything, he should be thanking us." He gave a reassuring pat of the little cauldron. "Besides, Potions seems to be the only thing the little weasel's interested in, at least he would appreciate the desire to see if what we've been working on practically all summer works."

Remus grimaced. Since when did 'practically all' equal at most two weeks? "Yeah, by testing it on an unwilling human subject. I'm sure that's all just dandy in the Potions Ethics handbooks."

"Aw, c'mon Remus, don't pretend a cleansing potion would not be helpful to him. Aren't you curious to see a non-greasy Snape?"

"Severus is not greasy! And he by no means needs that stupid potion. And you know good and well that is not meant for people." Just then he saw the boy in question turn the corner and headed underneath the boys' hiding place. "That's it. I don't know why I thought you two can mature out of this yourselves. I'm taking that stupid-"

"Gay Stall!"

Suddenly Remus had to deal with too much Potter too close. As he was trying to get through James' mock come ons Black got the chance to dump the unsuspecting Snape with the concoction.

The first reaction that Snape had that it was _cold._ Then his skin began to sting. Bad.

Two loud curses came simultaneously. One from Snape when the pain finally came home, and the other from James when he noticed the steam coming off of Snape's skin.

Before anyone could react, and before Remus could kill them all, Snape made a mad dash towards his room.

Half-blind, he ran and stumbled his way to the dungeons, pointing his wand towards himself and muttering any spells that can lessen the pain.

An ineffective burst of tepid water and gust of air later, he didn't feel the cool blessed sense of relief until he reached his room. He then managed to calm himself down and survey the damage. Well these robes were ruined. His shoes better than store bought.. Ugh, his skin had turned to a raw shade of pink, and if he didn't know any better-

"Severus?"

Curses. There was never a good time to run into this guy.

"What?" Lucius blinked once, and then began to laugh. "What happened to your hair?"

Normally when he wished to emotionally pull away from someone on reaction he'd hunch into himself and hide behind his hair. Unfortunately that just called more attention to his condition, which made Malfoy laugh all the harder.

"Black and Potter," he muttered darkly to the room.

Snape stormed around the room gathering things as Lucius chuckled into a pillow.

"I must say the look does work for you." _The hell it does._ "They must've had someone in mind when they were trying to make you beautiful." Malfoy straightened up importantly.

Snape gave him a look that even Lucius would admit, only very deep inside him, made him feel like a complete imbecile. "I'm going to the baths," he said gruffly, and stalked out the room.

* * *

" . . .Ahh . . ."

Severus Snape knew that that moan came as much from knowing defeat as well as pain. Hm, well now looking at her position on the floor, pain could have had its fair share. Ah, Angelina Johnson, Queen of Grace.

Though for this situation it'd be hard to really fault her with clumsiness; it's not easy to be randomly put from a seated position to one that had no chair with zero forewarning without embarrassment. The potions professor himself lucked out from his own indignities by help of a low table and a corner. The brief stumble never happened by the look on Snape's face.

The only luck that Angelina seemed to have was that her head barely missed the side of the staircase.

Snape was treated to a sight that he hadn't seen since the end of Angelina's 'awkward stage' around forth or fifth year: a mess of brown limbs and robes. Except instead of looking upon a head full of beads/various metallic/ribbons and a skinny body just starting to hint at the woman it would become he saw medium short black hair falling around pursed lips and an expanse of leg that would almost be provocative if they weren't so inelegantly placed. And instead of looking embarrassed or rueful she just looked irritated. Snape went up to her prone form.

"Ah, who was I to doubt the judgment of Albus in his waning years by choosing such a promising aide? Excuse me while I go fetch my funeral robes."

Dark eyes shot up to glare at him, but by the face she was making he was afraid he couldn't give himself full credit for it. She grumbled as she picked herself up off the floor.

"He did that on purpose . . ." she huffed.

"Well technically, my dear, that was Fawkes," Dumbledore's voice chuckled behind him.

Angelina's eyebrows went up to her hairline, and as he turned around he found out why.

The Headmaster himself wasn't physically in front of them, but he represented himself in the best way he knew how: crazy. He somehow made a facsimile of himself out of the materials off of a small table, the blue and white table cloth made a good version of his hat and beard and two glass vases making for odd, googly eyes. Severus sighed at the spilt water and lilacs

"Albus where are we?"

"Why, my dear boy, you're in a house."

Albus went on before Snape could've said anything really not nice. "And a lucky thing we found this house too! This ought to keep you safe for awhile. Or at least until we can figure out something better."

The two took a quick look over their surroundings. The place looked like a simple two story house, with at least one fireplace, an upstairs and the hintings of a kitchen behind them. Snape looked back at Albus.

"This is a safe house? I don't recall this being mentioned at a place to lie low from danger."

"It wasn't," Dumbledore responded jovially. "I just found it again. I thought I lost it."

"You just remembered the location of it?" Angelina asked, curious.

"Oh no, I never forgot the location of the house; it just wasn't where I left it."

Oh. Okay.

Well, that smacked of something that he'd answer in his own time or never at all. Snape's lips thinned as he crossed his arms.

"Okay Albus, what's my sentence?"

Dumbledore actually grew more somber. Snape admits that he's at best around 83 percent accurate on when the Headmaster will switch from silly to serious. He half expected him to say something smart.

"If there could be an easier way to keep you safe life would be a lot simpler for us all. But all things considered there could be worse arrangements. I must be brief now but my instructions aren't that complicated: This house will change locations every three days. The most important thing is to be in the house on the third day, but it would be wisest to be inconspicuous at all times. During the transition phase this safest place to be in would be the second bedroom upstairs. As of now I'm not quite sure of what day it is on; you may want to wait until the first transition happens before you leave. And trust me; you'll know when that happens.

"But most importantly: try to keep safe you two. I have faith in you both and hopefully this shelter will work in your favor but sometimes three days can be very long indeed. This house will be disconnected from all common magic trafficking, and I would soon disconnect this communication for now, so if there are questions you may ask them."

Angelina squashed the odd notion of raising her hand. "Headmaster, what about our clothing and belongings? We've hardly had the chance to get our things. Are we supposed to get them locally?" _Where's 'locally'?_

How does a figure made up of tablecloth and glass vases managed to look sheepish?

"Well, ahem, a lot of things you'd be looking for would already be upstairs. Ah the spell will be wearing off soon. Goodbye for now, you two, and good luck."

Before either could get in a word (and for Snape I'm sure it would have been plenty a word) the table top neatly resembled itself, flowers and water neatly in place.

* * *

Jeez, it's been so long the first people who read this probably left the fandom. I am so sorry. God bless all of you that read the story. I _do_ actually appreciate it. A lot. Apologies. Apologies to all. If one person still shows a speck of interest in this story I will not pull another stunt like this. I mean, a third time? That's just tacky. Specific thanks to **ShanniC, Evilevergreen, Fredsonetrueluv, angelface**, **Yoshi**, and **Nadrek**. Wherever you guys are, thanks for leafing this one through. 


	5. Chapter 5

A/N: Hey! Good news: It's not a year : D. Bad news: Heck it's not a week either, and I'm not sure if I'm too fond of this chapter. But eventually it's going to have to get better right (crosses fingers for a moving plot soon).

* * *

**Fire Angel**

**Chapter 5**

A fourteen year old Angelina Johnson found herself curled up on the floor of Dumbledore's office, the tears gradually winding down to sighs and hiccups. She felt light headed and hollow.

She couldn't recall much of what happened after that morning, when they pulled her aside to tell her that her aunt had passed the night before. It occurred suddenly, with nothing anyone could do, they said. She was basically gone when they found her.

The effect wouldn't have been so immediate if she were suddenly made deaf, blind, and muted.

She was very close to Aunt Selene, basically as much as her father, and had done nothing but grown closer. They spent so much time together; she helped her get through the bullying in her first years of school and was there the entire time as she figured herself out as a new witch at Hogwarts, being the closest relative that was also like her. She was the onethat helped her get through the tough times. Basically her second mother after her mom passed five years prior. They were basically of the same soul; the same smile, same laugh, the carefree attitude, and yet both knowing when to be stern, the perfect compliment to her father. Heck, she was the one that finally kicked her out of her funk after her mother's passing.

She was the anchor to both her worlds and it was being taken from her without warning without her knowing why.

When McGonagall came by to tell her she didn't break down immediately. Actually, it didn't absorb at all at first. As told by her classmates all she did was nod and walked away towards the next class. All she remembered was all her senses being dimmed and only knowing that she felt strangely heavy. She made it into the next class without really noticing anything, took out her supplies then stared at down at the desk as if it was going to give her an answer.

She was beginning to worry about why everything was so blurry when she felt a hand lead her out of the chair and into the hallway. She followed automatically, blank, not saying a word as she was led onto the moving stairs towards Dumbledore's office. The next thing she knew she was curled up against the floor, sobbing, unaware of the voices murmuring above her. Fawkes fluttered down next to her in hopes of some form of comfort.

Both women believed that everything was to happen for a reason.

At that moment in time, it was very hard to believe it.

* * *

Angelina Johnson celebrated this odd moment in her life by finding one of the strangest places in the small home and resting on it. 

Her long-limbed body was laid out along the short staircase: one hand stretched out behind her, the other used as a head rest on the small plane between the set of steps, and the rest of her body trailing more or less uncomfortably after. She was using the down time to study the patterns on the ceiling and trying to get things situated.

It wasn't even twenty-four hours since Dumbledore left both of them here with zero prep and little explanation, and everything felt like a fistful of loose ends.

Right after the Headmaster's avatar disassembled Angelina left a cursing Snape to venture upstairs. As he said her small amount of clothes and miscellanea she'd packed for the mission was neatly stored placed in a corner of the bedroom. In the other corner was another small collection of chests that she assumed was the Potions Master's. How'd he got her stuff here was anyone's guess; she initially left them at Headquarters to later retrieve after she knew what she was setting out to do. But honestly she would have been more surprised if they weren't there.

Within that same bedroom, one a small stand between the twin beds was a letter addressed to them from Dumbledore, doing just a good of a job as he did of telling us nothing more than the barest details of this entire thing. Moving house, three days, blah. At least they learned that there was about a month's supply of food in the kitchen and basic toiletries in the bathroom. Well, she did; Snape was too busy darkly seething to look over the letter, so she read over it herself.

The rest of the house was fully stocked as if a family just went through spring cleaning and then up and left somewhere. The cupboards and fridge was stocked, the beds were made and there were towels and sheets in the hall closet, heck there was even a functioning TV. It wasn't until she spotted Severus looking quizzically at the television that she finally noticed the oddest thing about the place: it was decidedly muggle.

She felt kind of silly since she was steadily ignoring the ceiling lights and lamps in practically every room. Then she felt more and more bemused at how a moving house was supposed to retain any sort of steady electrical current.

Overall the place looked like a small, two story (muggle) country house. It was a simplistic design, mainly made up of earthy tones, with beige carpeting in most of the rooms. The kitchen and bathroom came in an unattractive green color and white tiles. By looking out the windows it even seemed situated out in the country; all she saw was field and trees (wait there were no electrical- won't think about it) and no visible signs that they were or were not still in England. The sky didn't seem to have changed significantly from the time that they were in Hogwarts, but that didn't say too much.

Checking out the house took up most of the time up until she set herself down on the staircase. All of this looking over, thinking, and confusion did well in distracting her from the other occupant in the house.

Angelina re-angled her head and snorted.

Probably one of the few students who actually did something to earn Snape's ire, the reason he'd ever become one of her main adversaries in school years wasn't so much that he specifically targeted her initially (well, any more than any other Gryffindor student), but that she never learned to handle it well.

They've had more non-Potter confrontations that she'd care to remember; she'd made scenes in class, she'd confronted him after class, she'd started arguments about his behavior in detention, in the detentions that came of fussing in the earlier detention, confronted him in the hallways, a few bouts in the Great Hall, even had conferences with him and the Headmaster at his office after she went and reported him. Heck, one time she even followed him down to his personal chambers.

She'd lost so many points by him it wasn't even funny. The actual funny thing was her having an odd number of points given to her in the rest of her classes. She didn't know on whether it was sympathy at how all the other kids in her House would've killed at her for losing so many points, or that they actually were in a sense amused at all the grief she would give Snape.

So basically when you get two people who won't understand the phrase 'live and let live' you get their history. You would think that being in Gryffindor she couldn't have been the biggest thorn in his side (again pre-Harry), but by how the rest of the staff responded to her, she pretty much was. Gave Dumbledore many a merry laugh at her antics. Eh heh, maybe she ended up having a scheduled tea time with him biweekly that came of her consistently tramping up there to complain of the evils of the Potions Master?

The antics lessened a bit after getting into Quidditch and advanced academia, but she was always quick to defend friends, grades, and fair play. Which still meant fairly often. And maybe it was because she was becoming more calloused to his behavior, but it felt like he was backing off a little during her later years in the school.

Well, she didn't know how she stood with the professor now and she wasn't sure whether she wanted to know, but regardless on how she guessed she was going to find out, unless he chose to ignore her the entire time. Which, by the by, was phase four of his reaction to her back then and that barely lasted three months.

Angelina was smiling to herself when she remember how exactly she got him to end the silent treatment (which came as little nuggets of genius that was basically some variant of "If you think Snape is an ass, tap your pencil" during class), when she suddenly felt another presence.

She turned her head to find Snape looking down at her with part annoyance, part condensation, and with just a hint of sufferance. Of which he no doubt went through much pains to perfect.

Angelina stared back and waited for him to say something insulting about the ridiculous position he found her in. She watched as he looked like he was going to say something, took it back, and then seemed as if he weren't going to say anything at all until he scowled at her and said:

"What on Earth do you wear under your robes?"

Startled she scrambled her way off of the staircase and went to cover her legs as quickly as humanly possible. She didn't know why she became upset at the question (probably more at the tone of it than the question itself, which was more random than anything else), but it was upsetting enough for her to say back spitefully "Nothing!" as she pushed past her way up the stairs and towards the bedrooms.

She didn't know what made her say that; of course she was wearing clothes underneath her robes, even if they only amounted to a muggle pair of gym shorts and tank top for the warmer weather they were having recently. She may come to regret saying something so silly. She was waiting for some cool, sarcastic remark that would try to make her feel like a first year back in school, but again it didn't come.

If she saw the expression on his face, she would've know exactly why it never came. And it would've been completely worth it..

* * *

AN: These chapters are getting shorter. That annoys me. 

Ergh, this chapter fought me. I wished they'd just stopped fighting me! ha. It's a bit frustrating but I'm still optimistic at working out all these kinks and it becoming smoother sailing. But at least it isn't '08, and I hope this will just get easier for me and better for you as it goes along.

It'd have to with some of you guys; thanks for the support and critiques **evilevergreen**, **angelface04**, **Fredsonetrueluv**, **mytondeftiger**, **Sloe**, **angelinafan**, and **Nadrek**, I of course appreciate it.

But yeah, any questions, comments, rantings, death threats, mewls of despair, all to me. I'll try to explain myself as best as I can.


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